Ill-Gotten Gains (15 page)

In front of my father’s shop, set at an angle so that approaching cars would have a clear view, was the sign Lucy had mentioned. I had already studied it, spending a few incredulous minutes comparing the artist’s impression with reality. At least it was clear that the shop fronts were to be preserved. Beneath the imagery was a floor plan that detailed the proposed interior restructure. It seemed that they were each to be turned into a surprisingly spacious residence, with living areas downstairs and two bedrooms at the top.

Also interesting was the fact the sign itself was a little faded, suggesting it wasn’t a recent addition. It had been graffiti-tagged across the corner by somebody whose name was Tag, which seemed a little unimaginative. I turned back to the shops, letting my eyes drink in the details. I was surprised by how much I remembered, and also how much I didn’t. But they were so far removed from how they once had been, bustling, bright, bumptious, that my nostalgia was blunted. It was like meeting the brother of someone you loved.

Heels clipped against the pavement further down and I wasn’t terribly surprised to see Yen making her way towards me. She reached my side and turned to gaze at the shops also. We stood in silence for several moments before she spoke. ‘Thinking of buying them?’

‘Yes.’

She nodded. ‘Could be a good investment. Drive a hard bargain, though – they’ve been for sale for over a year so hopefully he’s desperate.’

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Do you know who owns it? Was it the guy who had the pharmacy?’

‘No, not him,’ she replied shortly. ‘They left town years ago. Probably some investor. Make sure you use that as a bargaining chip.’ She gestured towards the construction site. ‘It’s going to make this road even uglier. Oh, and ask what’s happening to that.’ She swivelled to point at the gravel car park. My neck was starting to feel sore just keeping up. ‘You don’t want to find out later it’s marked for social housing or something. And don’t give me your politically correct crap. Ninety per cent of them might be perfectly lovely, but the other ten per cent are dodgy. Luck of the draw. It also affects your value. Are you doing this because of your father?’

I blinked, and then gave the question some thought. ‘No. It’s like the icing on the cake, gives me an added sense of … well, ownership I suppose, but the thing is I like the location, I like the character, and I love the idea of remodelling the place myself.’

‘Yourself?’ Yen stared at me. ‘You?’

‘Yes, me. I
am
quite capable, you know.’

‘You realise it’s quite a leap from doll’s houses to the real thing?’

‘Really? Good god, well that changes everything. Phew! Thanks for letting me know.’

Her gaze changed to disdain but she didn’t answer. Instead she made her way over to the sign and near-sightedly examined the floor plan.

‘But I’m not interested if that plan is part of the deal,’ I added. ‘It’s daft. They’ve put the kitchen right in the centre and then included a waste-of-space passageway.’

‘And those spiral staircases are only practical if you’re a pole dancer. This plan is probably part of the reason it’s still on the market. Idiot architects.’

I stared at it, redesigning. If I put the kitchen and family room along the back, there could be bi-fold glass doors that opened straight outside. I could have merbau decking with wicker egg chairs and plants in earthenware pots, and maybe a spa.
Local identity redesigns derelict shops. Wins coveted award.

‘You realise they may be on the same title at this stage?’ Yen had put on her glasses and was still examining the board. ‘So if you take the renovations off the table, it might be a package deal. May not be worth it for him to renovate only the one.’

‘I know.’

She turned. ‘Can you afford that?’

‘Not sure. The problem would be having enough left over to remodel. But I could take out a small mortgage and then lease the second one to pay for it.’ I looked at her. ‘I could always rent it to Luce, given she wants to stay around here.’

Yen nodded. ‘I thought that’s what you might be thinking. And it’d … extend her options.’

‘Yes. By the way, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

We stood for a while, in companionable but slightly awkward silence. A radio was playing at the construction site and several workers were singing along to ‘The Eye of the Tiger’. Not well.

‘Although might I say that calling a girl “Luce” all her life was just asking for trouble.’

‘Ah! I
knew
it had to be my fault somehow!’ I rolled my eyes. ‘And you can talk! You named me after a woman who slept with her own uncle!’

‘First, that was just medieval mud-slinging. Second, it is far more likely that Eleanor of Aquitaine had a paternal fixation on her uncle rather than an incestuous relationship, meaning she simply missed her father. Which is particularly interesting given we are standing in front of your father’s old shop which you are considering purchasing. And third, neither your father nor I had siblings.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You are infuriating.’

‘Probably. Let me know if you need any help with the negotiations. Now I’d best get back.’ Yen glanced once more at the shops and then started walking down the pavement towards the pub.

After a moment I followed. ‘How did you even know I was here?’

‘Lucy told me. By the way, everybody has been asking about you. There’s a rumour that Edward Given rang you that night to confess he was about to kill Sam, and that you didn’t take him seriously. Thus your subsequent guilt led you to cut your own brake cable.’

‘Are you
kidding
?’ I twisted my shoulders so that I could stare at her. ‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘Particularly given you wouldn’t know a brake cable if you fell over one. Watch where you’re going.’

I straightened in time to avoid a hillock of broken paving. ‘Yes, my lack of mechanical knowhow is what’s wrong there. Nothing else.’

‘Well you
have
been hiding yourself away for a few days. That just adds fuel to the fire. Why, aren’t you a good-looking fellow!’

‘Pardon?’ I stopped again, because this walking, reacting and talking at the same time was almost impossible with my collar. Yen had bent to address a black dog that was lounging by the pub entrance. Tongue lolling, it stared past her towards me.

‘So are you mixed up with all this stuff?’ asked Yen without looking at me. She started off again, rounding the corner into the main street. ‘Or was the whole brake-cable thing a coincidence?’

‘No doubt,’ I replied vaguely.

‘Speaking of which, where’s your police escort?’

‘Back at the house. Apparently I’m not at risk in company.’

‘That seems a little arse-about. But can I just say I’m still getting over the last time you tried to get yourself killed. So I’d really appreciate you staying out of trouble. Harness your energies elsewhere.’

As we neared the main shopping strip, it became clear that the rapidly approaching commemorative weekend had already been a shot in the arm for local tourism. At least double the normal amount of cars and a corresponding number of people complemented the even greater increase in signage and advertising about the festivities on offer. Many of the shops had taken advantage of the increased traffic by positioning their wares along the footpath, adding to the overall colour and vitality. Renaissance was one of these, with two mobile bookstands, a pine tub full of remainders and a wire stand loaded with local produce. Beside these stood Ruby, looking dour.

‘For god’s sake, smile!’ said her grandmother. She paused to straighten a few books. ‘And be aware I’m not coming to your rescue this time. What are you doing now?’

‘She’s talking to me,’ I said to Ruby, who was clearly confused. I turned to Yen. ‘Hanging around here until someone gives me a lift home.’

‘I see. Well, you might as well use Ruby. I can keep an eye on this stuff from inside.’

‘I’ll get my keys,’ said Ruby flatly.

They both entered the shop, Ruby holding the door open for Betty Rawlings and Grace June Rae to exit. Lucy waved at me through the window.

‘Nell! We missed you on Monday!’ Betty beamed at me as she negotiated the step.

‘Yes, sorry.’ I touched my collar. ‘Bit indisposed.’

‘I heard! Could have got yourself killed, silly girl. Oh, and sorry but Bernie was useless.’

I blinked. ‘She was?’

‘Yes. Bernie. You know, my cousin that I said I’d speak to. About the murder. The
old
murder. So I
did
speak to her. On Sunday it was. Or maybe it was Saturday? It was the day we did that winery tour. Grace, which day was that?’

‘Saturday. No, Friday.’

‘Friday. Of course. Anyway she was near useless. All mixed up. She said that after the fight there was a big scandal because the woman ran off with one of the blokes. Hopefully she picked the live one, eh!’

I was frowning. ‘But if it’s the woman I’m thinking off, she married the original James Sheridan. So she didn’t run off anywhere.’

‘Told you she was useless. According to her, our nan used to say “like mother, like daughter” after she told the story. But I think she just makes things up. Bernie, that is. For instance, she said Nan had all these cats but she only had two. Or maybe it was three? No, I remember it was two because one was white and one was –’

‘Are you ready, Mum?’ Ruby had returned and was jingling her keys.

‘Yes. Thank you
so
much. Oh, and Grace? I don’t suppose you remembered where
you’d
heard the story?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes I did. It was Betty here. She told me.’

‘Oh. Okay. Well thank you both. I’ll see you next Monday, rain, hail or shine.’

‘Most probably rain,’ said Betty. ‘They say we’re in for a nasty spell early next week. Or was it later?’

Ruby and I made our escape, striding down the street and around the corner into Sheridan Lane. The workmen were now singing along to ‘The Gambler’ by Kenny Rogers. Perhaps I could use their voices to bargain the price down. I twisted as we drove back past the shops, having a last look, then I moved myself to face Ruby. I was on a roll. ‘So, what are your plans then?’

‘Go back to work, I suppose. Unfortunately.’

‘No, I meant your long-term plans. What’s next?’

She frowned. ‘Do we have to talk about that
now
?’

‘Given we’re always surrounded by other people, it seems a good opportunity.’

‘I just don’t want a frigging lecture, Mum.’ She pulled up at the traffic lights but continued to stare ahead. ‘I
know
I’ve ballsed everything up.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ I said, although it was fairly accurate. ‘Anyway, some people take longer to work out what they want to do, that’s all. Why not start with what you
don’t
want? Like working for your grandmother.’

‘God! You can say that again!’

‘Okay, so retail is out.’ I stiffened as the car jerked forward. ‘And taxi-driving.’

‘And hospitality. She keeps sending me to work in the cafe and I
hate
it! I want to do something I
enjoy
. That I get up every morning and look
forward
to.’

I watched the frustration tighten her face. ‘Rube, I don’t think there’s a job anywhere that’s enjoyable every single day. Sometimes work is just work, and sometimes it’s what you make it.’ I paused for a moment. ‘What worries me is that you seem to have incredibly high expectations. I just don’t know if they’ll ever be met.’

‘Thanks a frigging lot, Mum. That makes me feel a whole lot better.’

‘Don’t be so sensitive. I’m trying to help.’

Ruby reached into the console and fished out a stick of chewing gum. ‘I know. Sorry.’

‘Do I take it then that you have no plans?’

‘Well … I do have one idea.’ She flicked a glance at me and then stared at the road. ‘A friend of mine is doing it this year and she says it’s amazing.’

‘What is?’ I asked suspiciously.

‘Um, volunteering abroad. And before you say anything, hear me out. It’s organised through an aid agency.’ Her voice sped up, probably to prevent me interrupting. ‘Totally legit. You go over to one of those Third World places for a year and –’

‘And you have to pay for your travel expenses. How are you going to do that?’

‘By selling my car. It’d be worth it because it’d give me a chance to work out what I want to do while I’d be seeing the world
and
doing some good. Making a
difference
.’

We had pulled up in the driveway by now, behind the police car. I stared ahead at my broken fence and then closed my eyes for a moment. ‘Look, Ruby, I just –’

‘No, don’t say anything now. I have to get back to work anyway. Just think about it and we’ll talk later. I’ll send you the website if you like.’

‘Okay.’ I leant over to give her a clumsy hug, my collar bumping against her shoulder. Then I got out of the car and watched as she reversed out onto the road and then took off, gravel spitting against the letterbox. My roll had just come to an abrupt halt. Would there ever be a time when I had all five daughters sorted? Or had I lessened those chances when I had kept propagating willy-nilly? One would have been simple, two manageable – but five was just masochistic. Then again, I knew people with just the one child who kept them awake at night so perhaps it was more about personality than numbers.
Like mother, like daughter
popped into my head and I smiled ruefully.

The surly young policeman nodded as I passed the car. I wondered if he even knew it was me; no doubt he thought all middle-aged women looked the same. If it had been one of the others, Matthew or Amber, I would have offered coffee but he didn’t bring out the hostess in me. I continued into the house and came to a halt in the hallway, thinking. What if Betty Rawlings’ cousin Bernie wasn’t totally useless? What if she had simply got two stories mixed up, the one about Kata and another about Matija? Like mother, like daughter. My eyes widened as I accompanied this thought along a path that rapidly smoothed out. In a town with far more men than women, an eighteen-year-old Matija, particularly if she took after her mother, would no doubt have been a source of much admiration. It would have been surprising, in fact, if she
hadn’t
had a couple of men vying for her affection. Perhaps she became engaged to young James because it was what her family wanted, but her heart had lain elsewhere. And perhaps she had found she simply could not go through with it, running away instead with the man she really loved. Marrying him, taking his name and effectively vanishing. All of which meant we just needed to find out who he was in order to find her. Simple.